


tomorrow is your hope at the end of the day

by catsinouterspace



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, M/M, Multi, Post Rare Species Episode, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsinouterspace/pseuds/catsinouterspace
Summary: After leaving Geralt in the company of the dragon the last thing Yennefer wanted was to ever see the Witcher ever again but the universe had never cared about what Yennefer wanted.Or bard and mage get up to shenanigans in local village.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	tomorrow is your hope at the end of the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenfire/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy it!

The magic energy required to create a portal would alert any nearby mage to Yennefer’s presence, so she had opted to walk. It had been a lifetime since she’d traveled this way, without magic or a luxurious horse drawn carriage. Still there was something familiar about making her way by foot, the steady pace forcing her to take in her surroundings, she wasn’t sure when the world had stopped being beautiful to her. The outskirts of this town, however, paled to the mountains and the forests she had passed through to get here. It was much the same as the outskirts of any town of this size: _muddy._

The wheels of carts caused deep rivets in the road, any time one passed mud went flying covering anyone too close, clothes were never completely clean, and the place smelled of animal shit and unbathed people.

Yennefer hated that her brain still sees this and thinks _home_. Even if there aren’t any pleasurable connotations with the word.

A girl cuts in front of Yennefer, chasing after a wayward chicken, “Sorry ma’am.” She cries without taking a pause, she has shiny black hair, tied above her head, a loose tendril falling across her freckled face, she’s beautiful and for half a moment Yennefer feels a stab of jealousy. The thought is so sudden and fierce that it catches her off guard. Yennefer feels a bubble of laughter escape from her throat at the feeling that is nothing but a relic of a past life.

Beauty is power. She’d known that then, and she knew that now.

There were other methods of power of course; wealth, strength, magic. But being born into a town not unlike the one she was making her way through now meant that no one had any of those. Beauty could be found anywhere though, and it offered a chance for something better. Yennefer had spent years in her own muddy outskirts of town, imagining a life where things were different, her spine less crooked, her face beautiful enough to cause men and women alike to trip over themselves. In her fantasies a passing member of royalty, who must be terribly lost to appear in these parts of the world, would see her mucking out stalls. They’d pull their horse to a halt and beg her to come with them, for after laying eyes upon her, they would know their life would be empty without her.

Sometimes her imagination had been less fanciful; she would have moved only a village over, where she would have had to work no less hard, making ends meet would still be difficult but at least she’d be able to sleep in a bed rather than out with the pigs. At least there she would be _loved._

And that’s where it gets all jumbled; love and power. Yennefer wants love, but the concept remains abstract and elusive no matter how hard or long she searches for it; power on the other hand is something concrete to chase, something she’s been taught how to achieve. Yennefer watches an adolescent boy throw a clump of dirt at a girl whose face is nearly entirely covered in scar tissue that can only be from the aftermath of a fire. Some things never change.

She wonders what life will be like for the girl. Whether she’ll spend her life here, tending to the animals, or if she’ll be whisked away.

If you're beautiful, it’s much easier to get swept up and taken away from a life such as this. If one was beautiful, they could escape, if one was beautiful, they would have the power to control their own destiny, if one was beautiful then maybe they could be happy. But Yennefer hadn’t been.

So instead of a royal spouse to be, a witch came and took her.

Yennefer paused her trudging, the mud seemed to only get thicker, and she wondered how much longer it would take until it gave way to the cobblestone of the inner town. She could feel eyes on her, she didn’t belong here. Not anymore. People like her didn’t wonder in places like this, no matter her history. She gritted her teeth and continued her journey, the quicker she walked the quicker she’d be out of here.

Yennefer had dreamed of escaping for her entire childhood. She had imagined a thousand different scenarios that would let her leave what was her own personal hell behind. A lover was always her favourite, but she was desperate, so maybe someone who saw the way she was with the animals, someone who needed a good worker, or a long-lost relative. When she’d been little, she still wished for her father, before she came to hate him for the impure bloodline he’d passed to her.

Yet when it happened all she had was fear.

Once again Yennefer had no power over what happened in her life.

Under Tissaia de Vries tutelage Yennefer was taught real power, taught how to hold the balance of life or death at her fingertips, someone’s very existence at her whim. She was taught how to manipulate the most powerful of men, whisper in their ear the right words and watch civilisations grow and fall.

And she had.

And now she’s weary and still searching, always searching.

Climbing up that mountain to slay a dragon had felt like something ripped from her childhood day dream. A Knight, desperate to prove his worth to her, a roguishly handsome man still ensnared with her, and a magical journey.

And it had ended exactly how it always did back then.

A wagon wheel splashing mud across her face.

Yennefer gasped, bringing her hands up to her face, she wiped the gritty concoction off her face.

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling through her nose, she didn’t use magic to remedy the situation, not wanting to alert anyone to the fact that she’s a mage for something so petty. And continued marching forward.

Yennefer didn't want to see Geralt again. So, a town like this was perfect. A word she could now use as her feet hit cobblestone, and the farms gave way to small town houses, and bustling streets. It’s a big enough town that there won't be talk of a stranger's arrival but small enough that the chances of the Witcher heading this way are next to none.

It is a testimony of how the universe feels about her that the first bar she enters, ready to drown her sorrows in, holds a familiar face.

The Bard's music screeches to a halt and the few patrons that were actually paying attention turn to see what caught his attention.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, so much for being unnoticed. She turned on her heel and left the establishment, the oaken doors slamming shut behind her.

“Wait!” 

Yennefer ignored the cry, continuing her march onwards.

“Yennefer!” 

The call was louder than before and Yennefer picked up her pace.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” 

Yennefer clenched her teeth as she heard the man start to run.

Jaskier grabbed her shoulder “Yen-”

She whirled around, letting her eyes flash golden, “Don’t touch me.” She growled.

Jaskier held up his hands taking a hurried step back, “Sorry.”

“What do you want?”

“I, uh…” For once the Bard wasn’t quick with a response. “Let me buy you a drink?” He finally settled on, his eyebrows scrunched together.

Yennefer tilted her head back, letting out a mocking bark of laughter. “What so you can throw me at Geralt?” 

“He’s not here.” Jaskier said quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh,” Yennefer ran her eyes over the man, trying to gage what that meant, “You can buy me a drink.”

Yennefer watched as the droplets formed along the outside of her glass, one of them gathered enough weight that it ran down the glass, leaving an icy trail in its wake.

“You know you can drink it right?” Jaskier began, “I really don’t know the bartender well enough to get him to poison you.” 

Yennefer turned to glare at him, “Don’t think that you could ever hope to kill me.” Jaskier gulps and Yennefer picks up the glass and takes a swig of the amber liquid.

“Right then…”

“So where is he?”

Jaskier shrugged.

“For the last twenty years wherever he’s been, you’ve been.” Yennefer stressed her words.

“You think I don’t know that?” Jaskier hissed at her through his teeth, “What happened between you two?”

Yennefer leaned back in her booth, tilting her head up skywards, “That’s none of your business, Bard.”

“It is,” Jaskier began through clenched teeth, “When it affects me.”

Yennefer watched him carefully, the Bard refused to make eye contact, his hands tapping out a disjointed pattern on his own glass. She closed her eyes for a second taking a deep breath, she forced herself to soften her facial features, “Why isn’t he here Jaskier?” 

Jaskier grimaced, “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”

“How’d you finish your song?” 

Jaskier drew his eyebrows together, tilting his head to the side, “What?”

“About the dragons?”

“I didn’t.” Jaskier replied curtly. “By the time I got there it was over and Geralt wasn’t keen to fill in the details.”

There was silence between them. Jaskier picked at his cuticles, focusing on his fingernails rather than the woman sitting across from him, “He blames me for you leaving.”

Yennefer clenched her jaw, turning her head to the side, “Of course he does.” She grabbed her drink, downing the last few sips before placing the glass back on the table with unnecessary force, “That pig headed, arrogant man-”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows at the outburst.

“I can’t believe he blames _you_ for what _he_ chose to do.”

The Bard raised his hand summoning the bartender, when he approached Jaskier, quirked an eyebrow at Yennefer.

“Something stronger than this,” Yennefer told him, raising her glass.

“Coming right up,” The man assured them.

“Chose to do?” Jaskier asked.

“The wish.” Yennefer clarified.

Jaskier’s face wrinkled in confusion. “You have an issue with that?”

“Of _course_ I have an issue with that.” 

The bartender returns with two glasses, a much darker amber liquid, in it.

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, and Yennefer nodded her approval.

“Does he think I’m just some _thing_ he can tether to himself without consulting me?” Yennefer returned to the conversation at hand.

“He did it to save your life, Yen.” Jaskier told her softly.

Yennefer hesitated at the nickname. “I _don’t need to be saved._ ” Yennefer had been saved before and it had led to an immortal loveless life. Saving was never for her sake but for the sake of the saviour.

“He cares for you.” Jaskier tried again to placate her.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “He just _thinks_ he does, that’s what a wish _does_.” 

“I mean he only entered the wish to save your life.”

“Have you seen the manner of beasts whose lives he saves?” Yennefer asked.

Jaskier laughed, “I can assure you Yennefer, you are no beast.”

Yennefer let out a short exhale through her nose. “You haven’t known me very long.” 

Jaskier covered his mouth with his palm in mock shock, “Are you saying you were not always so lovely? Did poor teenage Yennefer have a nasty case of acne?” Jaskier smiled at her, reaching for his drink, his movements are slightly off and a bit sloshes over the edge, the alcohol certainly has a bite to it.

Jaskier had no clue, most humans were unaware of why mages were so beautiful. Even those who knew didn't know exactly what she had been beforehand, at worst picturing a plain-faced girl, with dull hair. Yennefer reached for her own glass, enjoying the heat that spread through her body as she sipped it, “You know I thought getting rid of my,” She hesitated before saying the word, “ _acne_ would mean something different for me.” She leaves the meaning vague but Jaskier reads between the lines with ease.

He snorted, “You could have any man in this bar.”

The pair turned from their booth to appraise the other patrons before turning back to each other.

“Okay, I see your point.” 

“Even if there were any eligible bachelors here-”

“I’ll try not to take offence.”

“-that’s not the same as love.” Yennefer continued.

There was silence for a moment, “He loves you, Yen.”

Yennefer breathed in deeply, ready to remind Jaskier that Geralt _couldn’t_ know that.

“Don’t.” Jaskier shook his head. “He’s been stupid about you since you met. Don’t get me wrong, I tried to talk some sense into him-”

Jaskier ducked out of the way with the grace of a man who was well used to having napkins thrown at him.

“He loves you too, Jaskier.” Yennefer told him.

Jaskier shrugged, “Yeah I thought so.” He stares into what remains of his drink as though the answer will be hidden there somewhere.

This time Yennefer flags the bartender, “Two more of these,” She gestured at the near empty glasses.

“Why didn’t we ever get along?” Yennefer asked.

“Oh, I imagine it was the whole trying to kill me when we first met thing.”

“Oh, that.” Yennefer tilted her head to the side for a moment, “I mean I’ve done far worse than that and still had people like me.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t cast a spell on me,” He held up his left index finger in front of his face, waggling it for half a second before his arm crashed onto the table as though the weight of his hand was too great to bear. “That is _not_ an invitation to put one on me.”

Yennefer grinned, putting her elbows on the table and entwining her fingers, she leans forward towards Jaskier resting her chin on her steepled hands. “I usually don’t need a spell either.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at her smile, it was a _perfect_ smile, of course it was, and yet it seemed like it showed far too many teeth, a hint of danger behind it. “Well, I’m not like other men.” 

Yennefer quirked an eyebrow up, “Ah, yes I’ve heard of your affliction.”

“Bollocks,” Jaskier groaned.

Yennefer grinned, “As I’ve heard.”

Jaskier stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, “Geralt made up that an unfortunate lie to get me out of a spot of trouble.”

“So, I suppose I should believe the other set of rumours then?” 

Jaskier narrowed his eyes, “Which are?”

“That you’re a very talented bard,” Yennefer licked her upper lip, “Very talented in deed.”

It took half a second for the realisation that Yennefer was flirting with him to make it through Jaskier’s alcohol addled brain. “Oh no,” He said. “I mean I won’t refute those rumours, but no thank you, very kindly.” Jaskier nodded curtly at her as if to wish her good day but made no move to leave, “I don’t fuck with magical beings at least not without a witcher present, because I value my life.”

Yennefer laughed, “A fair rule. Though I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

Jaskier nearly choked on his drink.

Yennefer leant back in her seat, delighting in making the Bard squirm, “Didn’t imagine you to be so coy.”

“Sorry, it just takes a while for me to go from fearing for my life to flirting.” He waved his left hand around as he spoke.

“Oh sweetheart,” Yennefer leant across the table again, she traced a thumb down Jaskier’s cheek before cradling his chin in her hand, leading him forward until their noses were touching. Jaskier swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously, “Don’t you know it’s best when there's no distinction between those two?”

Jaskier yanked back suddenly, “Whoa,” He grabbed for his drink, “You remind every guy you’re with that you could kill them?”

Yennefer shrugged one shoulder.

“So, are you,” Jaskier paused, searching for words, “A good mage?”

Yennefer let out a bark of laughter, “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

“Well, how am I supposed to know? Your kind aren’t exactly the friendliest.”

“You’re telling me,” Yennefer knocked back the rest of her drink, she caught the bartender’s eyes, pointing at the empty glass before holding up two fingers. “And I am _very_ good.”

Jaskier’s entire face seemed to light up, he leaned across the table, propping himself up on his elbows, “How good?”

Yennefer watched him carefully, “Why?”

Jaskier raised one left shoulder, before sliding his elbow down the table, he laid his head on his bicep, turning his big brown eyes up to Yennefer, blinking twice, his eyelashes were amazingly long, and he looked like a fawn. “I’m bored, _and_ I don’t know anyone here.”

Yennefer’s face broke into an open-mouthed grin, she tilted her head skyward. “What four days without Geralt and you already need to seek out trouble?”

“Something like that.” Jaskier took his head off his arm, righting himself, although not without struggle, he propped his head up on his hands.

“What do you have planned?” Yennefer asked.

“I-” Jaskier hesitated, he glanced around the tavern nervously, before leaning forward, Yennefer obliged and tilted her head towards his, his lips pressed against her ear, “The Mayor is corrupt.” Jaskier said.

Yennefer let a stream of air out her nose, “Oh really?” She asked, _here and every other town_.

Jaskier, however, was too drunk to notice her sarcasm and nodded solemnly. “He takes everything,” Jaskier paused to hiccup, “ _everything_ from the people in taxes, and then squanders it on bulshit for himself.”

Yennefer thought about explaining that that was the appeal of being mayor in the first place but Jaskier just looked so hurt, shocked that people would do this. The Mage paused to think about how this was the man who saw a witcher and instead of making himself scarce declared he had a PR problem and decided to follow him on quests that a mortal, let alone one with no combat experience, should be nowhere near.

“Have you seen the outskirts of town?” Jaskier asked, “With the money the mayor takes he could have paved those roads, but half the people here don’t even have enough to eat.”

“Okay,” Yennefer said, thinking about the girl with the scarred face, maybe there would be a way for her to escape after all. “What do you suggest?”

Jaskier grinned, leaning forward once again to whisper the plan to Yennefer.  
  


The pair stood outside the Mayor’s manor; it wasn’t particularly difficult to find, being twice the size of the next biggest building in town, and the only one which didn’t appear to be direly in need of repairs. Jaskier leaned heavily on her as they made their way there. Yennefer also felt slow and light-headed, enough so that she had agreed to this ridiculous plan.

“Okay,” Yennefer said, mustering all the seriousness she could in her voice, “You gotta, you gotta act sober for at least the next four minutes.”

Jaskier stood up straight, saluted her, “Aye, aye.” 

Yennefer cleared her throat to avoid laughing at the response. She waltzed up the guard, head held high, Jaskier followed her like a well-trained puppy, stumbling only once. “We’re here to see Mayor Whitlam.” 

The guard stared at her; he gawked openly. Yennefer stared up at him, he had a good foot and a half on her. 

“Well?” She snapped.

“Mayor Whitlam doesn’t have any appointments tonight.” The guard finally said.

“I see, well my appointment is more of a private nature.” 

“Oh,” The guard glanced at Jaskier who was standing rigidly straight, not moving a muscle, doing his best to act as though he wasn’t completely off his face, “And him?”

“A bard to keep us entertained. I don’t appreciate these questions, and I don’t think the Mayor will appreciate me keeping him waiting.”

“Oh, of course,” The guard quickly stepped to the side, “I believe he’ll be in his bedroom chambers.”

“I know where he’ll be.” Yennefer replied curtly.

“Though for uh, curiosity’s sake, where exactly are his chambers?” Jaskier asked.

“Top floor on the right,” The guard replied helpfully.

Yennefer stared at him for a second, well the incompetency of a local mayor’s security really wasn’t her problem.

“Are you going to be able to manage that?” Yennefer asked as they reach the bottom of a very long staircase.

“’course!” Jaskier said, taking the statement as a challenge he ran at the stairs, promptly tripping over the first one he fell forward, catching himself with his hands. This was not enough to have him rethinking his approach as he took off up the stairs on all fours.

 _Jesus Christ, what have I agreed to?_ Yennefer jogged up the stairs, hurrying after her companion, as she reached the top she slammed into the solid wall of a surprisingly still Jaskier. 

Jaskier stumbled forward at the impact, Yennefer nearly leapt out of her skin as a crash echoed through the house. “God, I hope that was expensive.” Jaskier said staring at the vase he’d knocked over.

“Who's there?” A voice called from, presumably, Whitlam’s bed chambers.

“Shhhh!” Yennefer hushed, all too loudly.

“Oh shit,” Jaskier said in a voice that did not at all confer with Yennefer’s advice. “The plan!” He barked. “We must enact the plan.”

 _Here goes nothing._ Yennefer’s eyes flashed a shade darker and Jaskier started to float in the air.

“Oh my god,” He flashed her a thumbs up.

Yennefer bit her lip to avoid laughing at the absurdity of the plan the drunken Bard had come up with. She walked a few metres behind Jaskier floating him along the corridor.

“I said who’s here? I’m armed!” The Mayor threatened.

Jaskier’s eyes widened, but Yennefer just pushed him forward into the view of the man.

The Mayor looked like he’d been peeled off a monopoly board, overweight, with a groomed moustache, and silken bed clothes.

“It is I!” Jaskier declared, with forced bravado, “The ghost of your sins.”

The man’s eyes turned to saucers; he took an aborted step backward. “I- I assure I can explain.”

“Explain!” Jaskier bellowed.

“Well, she was-“

“I don’t want to know about your love life!” The Bard snapped, “How do you sit in this house, stealing the very food off your people’s tables?” 

“It’s just fair taxes!” The man cried.

“Are you arguing with me?” Jaskier asked incredulous, “I’m a fucking ghost.” _Who argued with a ghost?_ Suddenly Jaskier whooshed forward, so he was hovering just in front of Whitlam, Jaskier’s stomach felt sick at the sudden movement. “You. Will. Repent.” Jaskier enunciated every word.

Every door in the house slammed shut, wind rattled at the window, and the once warm hall dropped to freezing.

“I’msorryimsorryimsorry,” The Mayor blubbered spit getting caught in his moustache as he dropped to his knees.

“You will begin returning your grain stock to your people at daybreak.”

“I can’t return it,” The man cried, “They’ll never pay their taxes again.”

“Then you’ll make taxes fair, actually use them to improve the town.”

“But-“

There was a spine-chilling crack as a window pane shattered in the unnatural cold of the hallway.

“Okayokay.” Whitlam clasped both his hands together, bringing them back and forward as he rocked on his knees.

“Make sure I don’t need to see you again tomorrow, or you’ll regret it.” Jaskier’s stomach felt like it was left in the hallway with the man as his body was thrown backward and down the staircase. He finally came to a screeching halt at the entrance to the manor. Yennefer was already there, a smile on her lips.

“You make a good ghost.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw up on him.”

“I’m not that drunk!” Jaskier protested.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were sloshed considering the best plan you could come up with was _ghosts.”_

“Oi!” Jaskier snapped, “It worked.” He turned to look around the house they were in, “How are we going to get out?”

Yennefer sighed; she might as well give up any pretence of being discreet. A portal dark as midnight appeared in the middle of the room.

“Hmm,” Jaskier nodded his head a few times, “I don’t trust that thing.”

“Do you trust me?” Yennefer asked.

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows, “I thought we had established that I very much do not.”

Yennefer laughed and shoved him forward, she leapt after him, landing on the bed in the inn room she had booked earlier.

“Oh, the lengths you’ll go to get me into bed.” Jaskier said as he caught his bearings, the portals always made it feel like the world was spinning and the combination of alcohol was not boding well.

Yennefer shoved his shoulder, “You have a place to stay?”

Jaskier scrunched up his face, “Yes.” He stood to make a move but instantly the room swayed around him, “Actually…” He trailed off looking at Yennefer, “If you don’t mind…”

Yennefer laughed, “You can stay the night Bard.” She began unbuckling her boots, “Take your shoes off, I don’t want them on the bed.” She instructed Jaskier. 

Jaskier nodded, following Yennefer’s instructions, he snuggled under the cover in nothing but his underwear, averting his eyes as Yennefer moved to a similar state of undress

“You can watch if you want.” Yennefer didn’t even look at him as she said this. 

Jaskier glanced upwards, Yennefer had removed her gown and was just as stunning shirtless as he remembered, this time her stomach unmarked by any sigils.

Jaskier tore his gaze away, “Last time I saw you like this I ended up nearly dead.” He mumbled into his blanket.

Yennefer tilted her head back in a laugh, “Most men don’t hold a grudge once I’m shirtless.”

“Oh, I’m sure that must be useful for sacrificing them for some evil witchcraft.”

Yennefer grinned, “From what Geralt told me you don’t really fit the virgin type.”

Jaskier glared at her, “Look if fucking keeps me safe, I’m all for it.”

“Human sacrifices are very rare,” Yennefer said, “And besides that the whole virgin thing is a spoof, a human life is a human life.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, as he drew deeper into the remarkably fluffy pillows as though those would protect him from the witch’s wrath.

“Oh relax,” Yennefer pulled up the covers snuggling under them, Jaskier tried his best not to think about the lack of layers between himself and the witch, “You’re far too much fun, plenty of boring oafs I’d rather kill.”

There was quiet between the two of them for long enough that Jaskier thought Yennefer may have dozed off, “Like Geralt?” He said it quietly enough that he wouldn’t wake the witch if she was asleep.

“I don’t know,” She answered.

“I…” Jaskier hesitated, “I only sort of know what happened between you two.” 

“I only sort of know what happened between you two as well.”

“I asked first,” Jaskier pouted petulantly. 

“He took my free will from me.” Yennefer said.

Jaskier paused waiting for Yennefer to continue.

“I just wanted to be _important_ to someone,” It’s a yearning that has never left her, and she thought that maybe just after a century of waiting there was _someone,_ and it had all been fake, it felt like the proverbial rug had been ripped out from her.

Jaskier furrowed his brow, “You are important to him and-”

“He thinks I am because he wished it so,” Yennefer scowled, “He cursed himself with the same affliction which he cursed me.”

“- _and,”_ Jaskier stretched, “You mean something to me too.”

Yennefer didn’t reply, the silence felt deafening, and the Bard was sure that she must have fallen asleep. “I thought you were scared of me.” She finally said.

“I am _terrified.”_ Jaskier chuckled, “But I also think you are incredibly smart, and powerful and _gorgeous.”_ Jaskier wiggled forwards under the doonas so his head was on the same pillow as Yennefer, he pressed their foreheads together, “What can I say? Geralt has fantastic taste in people.”

Yennefer smiled, Jaskier could feel her breath against his own lips, “He really does.”

“Besides, he wished to never lose you.”

“And so, he has lost me.”

“Losing something isn’t the same as loving something, definitely isn’t the same as having something love you back.”

Yennefer was quiet, her purple eyes watching Jaskier.

“Like I wish to never lose my lute, but that doesn’t mean I _love_ it like a person.”

There was silence.

“You’re thinking about how your lute isn’t here aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Did you have it with you in the mayor’s house?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to go back to the bar?”

“Please.”

Yennefer threw off the covers with a groan. “Your lute would definitely have been a better use of a wish, at least it would have given me some extra sleep.”

Jaskier shivered at the sudden cold, grabbing for his clothing, “Djinns are notoriously picky about wording Yen, it’s worth thinking about what it means.”

Yennefer didn’t answer, instead throwing Jaskier’s jacket at him as they headed to the door. “Enough about my relationship, did you two really break up because of me?”

Jaskier shrugged, “You know how Geralt is,” He wrapped his arms around himself as they headed out of the room, “Fuck it’s cold.”

“We’ll only be out a minute.” Yennefer assured him, picking up her pace, “Still, even if he can be a moody bastard sometimes, you guys have always been…” Yennefer trailed off, searching for the right words. Yennefer had floated in and out of Geralt’s life, drawn like a moth to a flame, every meeting had been brief, and passionate, burning so brightly it couldn’t last long lest the flame choke itself with a lack of oxygen. But Jaskier had always been there. A human following a witcher on hunts that someone so fragile, so _easily_ killable shouldn’t be on. “It’s always seemed like you guys were, well forever I guess.”

Jaskier smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Yeah, I thought so too.” He tucked his head low, walking through the streets, “I suppose I should have expected it to end somehow, I mean the whole,” Jaskier shrugged one arm, “Having a human life span was always going to be an issue.”

Yennefer stopped walking. 

Jaskier stopped, turning around to face her.

“Did he say that?”

“What?” Jaskier tilted his head to the side, “No, it’s just…” Jaskier trailed off.

“You know I was joking.”

Jaskier furrowed his brow, staring at her blankly.

“About the,” Yennefer waived at her forehead, “crows’ feet. You actually have remarkably good skin.”

“Oh yes, great skin for my age,” Jaskier threw up his hands and began marching off on the way to the tavern he was desperately hoping his lute was in.

“Jaskier!” Yennefer called, walking after him, “I’m sorry,” She said, trying to hold in her laughter, “It was just too easy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaskier waved her off. “Oh, thank god,” Jaskier said, “It looks like it’s still open,” He gestured towards the tavern whose lights glowed bright in the night.

Yennefer and Jaskier came to a sudden halt as the sound of glass shattering came from the bar, they turned to stare at each other.

Yennefer glanced up at the sky, looking at the positioning of the moon, “Do we really want to deal with a bar fight at two am?”

Jaskier stuck out his bottom lip, “I can’t leave my lute in that sort of environment.”

“I thought you said you _weren’t_ in love with the lute.”

Jaskier glared at her, “Can’t believe the Great Mage of Vengerberg is scared of a little bar fight.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “I’m not scared, it’s just bothersome.” Still she began walking forward to the sound of yelling voices.

They reached the door of the tavern, its solid oak had a glistening _Open_ sign on it but the door remained shut to keep inside the promising warmth of the fires that lit the tavern. Jaskier pushed forward the door before freezing.

Yennefer craned her head over his shoulder, “What is i-“

A man was pressed against the wall, his boots dangling a few centimetres above the ground, “I don’t know, I swear he just left it here.” The man cried.

The white-haired Witcher held him up against the wall with one hand the other clutching at the lute. He grunted and let the man drop to the ground but still kept him cornered, “He would _never_ go anywhere without this.”

“He was drunk when he left,” The man said, “I’m sure he’ll be back!”

Geralt grunted, “Then I’ll wait.” He turned to give the barman some room. His eyes catching Jaskier’s, “Jaskier,” he breathed.

“Geralt.” Jaskier murmured.

Yennefer cleared her throat.

Geralt paused, “What are-“ He tilted his head, “Why are you both here?”

Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it, he walked into the tavern, towards Geralt he held out his hand, “I left my lute here.” He said curtly.

Yennefer followed him in, “We could ask you the same thing Geralt.” She turned to Jaskier, “Are you ready to return to the room?” She pointedly ignored the Witcher.

“You’re staying together?” He ran his eyes over Jaskier, the Bard’s dishevelled appearance becoming more apparent as he looked, although he had sobered up a bit, one button of his jacket had not been done up and his hair was a mess. 

“As if that’s any of your business.” Yennefer stated coldly.

“Yennefer…” Geralt trailed off. “I owe you an apology,” The Witcher paused, it looked as though the words physically pained him to say, “I owe you _both_ an apology.”

Yennefer trailed her eyes up and down the Witcher, the grey-haired man watched them through wide honey eyes, still holding onto Jaskier’s lute.

“I have a room a few doors down from here,” Yennefer conceded.

Jaskier fished around in his jacket pocket, coming up with a few coins he walked over to the bench that the bartender had been scrubbing for a good five minutes, trying to keep out of the scene unfolding in front of him. “For your trouble.”


End file.
